Accidentally Yours Chapter 82

**Lola**

The first thing Lola registered was weight. Not crushing—just solid, warm, steady.

Not Enzo. She’d know him anywhere.

Her lashes fluttered open, and the realization hit like a record scratch.

Nico.

His head was pillowed against her chest, arms banded tight around her waist like she was the anchor keeping him tethered to the earth. Her own hands were already resting on his shoulders like muscle memory, fingers curved lazily into his hair.

***Wait. What the hell? How did I—***

She shifted, trying to piece it together. The last thing she remembered was the balcony—Enzo’s hands on her, the world going white around the edges as her body finally gave out. After that? Nothing.

Before she could pull away, Nico’s groggy voice rumbled against her ribs. “Don’t.” His grip tightened automatically.

Lola froze. “Nico—what the hell happened? Why am I—”

He cracked one eye open, sleep-heavy but steady. “Couple hours ago, you shimmied across the couch. Ended up here, laying on top of me.” He shrugged, small and careful so he didn’t jostle her. “Guess this happened after I fell back asleep.”

Her brows shot up. “I crawled over here and cuddled you?”

“You did,” Nico said simply. Then, softer, “First thing I did was text Enzo, so calm down.”

Her stomach dropped. “What?”

“I asked what he wanted me to do.” His voice steadied, low but sure. “He said you probably needed the comfort. Said you might fight it, but deep down you needed it. Something about you being tough as nails on the outside but soft and squishy on the inside.” He poked her side, light and teasing. “My job is to keep you safe. Make sure you felt secure. And even if it weren’t an order—” his arms tightened a little, “—I’d still want to. You’ve been through a lot in a short time, Lo. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Her throat closed up, eyes stinging before she could stop it.

***Goddamn Enzo. Always knowing. Always giving her exactly what she wouldn’t admit she needed.***

Still, anxiety wormed in. Her chest squeezed. Would Enzo be mad, seeing her like this? Would he think she’d crossed a line? 

She whispered, “He’s… okay with this? And you’re okay with this?”

Nico nodded, cheek brushing her sternum. “Brand new territory, sure. Weird, maybe a little. But I’m fine if you are. Are you comfortable? Want me to move?”

She searched herself, biting her lip. Truth? She was. *Too comfortable*. Trust was rare for her, a razorblade earned in blood, and yet somehow she trusted Nico. Enough that her body had apparently dragged itself across the couch in the middle of the night to seek comfort from him. And if she was brutally honest, he was handsome. Funny. And last night—holy hell fire. Balcony heat, Nico’s hands on her body under Enzo’s command—it was the kind of hot that burned under your skin.

“…Yeah,” she admitted, exhaling. “I’m comfortable. Really comfortable. I don’t want to move anytime soon.”

Something flickered across his face—relief, maybe, or something heavier. His grip didn’t ease; it got firmer.

“Good. Because for the record?” Nico’s voice was low, rough with sleep but steady. “Neither do I. This—right here—feels easy. Right. Like I could stay here all damn day and not give a single fuck about the rest of the world. Which is good, considering Enzo told me to make sure you rest. He even booked you a massage for two.” His mouth quirked, just a hint of mischief. “Said you’d be sore, though I’ve got no idea what he meant by that.”

Her laugh spilled out, soft but sharp at the edges. “Well, after that crazy bastard put me through a table, the least he could do was buy me a massage. Honestly? Kinda hoping it happens again tonight.”

Nico choked on a laugh, shaking his head against her chest. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah.” Her smirk curved wicked, eyes glinting. “And that’s *why* I ended up through a table Nic.”

Nico made a low sound in his throat—half laugh, half groan—as if her words landed too heavy, too hot, and he didn’t know what to do with them.

Silence followed—soft, not awkward. The kind of quiet that felt earned after too much noise.

Her mind wandered, traitorous. Back to the balcony. The way Enzo had watched. The way Nico’s hands had trembled against her skin until they didn’t anymore. The way she’d looked Enzo dead in the eye and pushed him until he snapped. A shiver ran down her spine.

She swallowed. “Nico… last night—”

His breath hitched where his cheek rested against her chest. “Yeah. I know.”

“Look,” she said, voice low but firm, “this is new. If it ever feels like too much, we just say so. No secrets. No guilt. We figure it out together.”

Nico’s eyes lifted, steady despite the sleep still clinging to him. Relief tugged at the edges of his mouth, almost a smile. “Deal.”

Her chest loosened. Relief tangled with a warmth she didn’t want to name, the kind that made her want to laugh and sigh all at once.

“…Is this what having a family feels like?” The words slipped out before she could catch them, raw and small in the quiet.

Nico stilled, his head tilting just enough to look at her. His voice was rough, honest. “Yeah, Lo. Pretty much.”

Something in her broke open, not painful—just full. She let out a shaky laugh, quiet but real, like the sound was stitched together with equal parts joy and disbelief.

She tipped her chin down, eyes catching the way his lashes fluttered heavier. Her fingers slid into his hair, lazy, unhurried, drawing slow circles against his scalp.

Nico hummed low in his chest, almost a growl. “That. Don’t stop. Feels too good.”

She smirked faintly, warmth threading through her. “Geez, spoiled already.”

“Damn right,” he murmured, voice drifting, a flicker of mischief curling at the edges. “I deserve to be spoiled.”

“Does it make me a terrible person,” she asked wryly, “that I’m loving this right now? That I’m so comfortable I don’t even want to get up—even though my bladder’s about to mutiny?”

That earned her a sleepy grin, crooked and real. He burrowed closer, voice dropping to a murmur. “Not terrible. Just honest.”

Her heart thudded, hard. She kept her fingers in his hair, slow and lazy, and the sound he made—a low rumble, half-growl, half-purr—soothed her in a way she hadn’t known she needed.

“Careful,” she teased softly. “That sounded like a man enjoying himself.”

Nico hummed again, softer this time, a rumble of pure contentment. “Lo…” His breath warmed her ribs. “Best pillow I’ve ever had. You’re stuck with me now.”

She huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. “You sound delirious.”

“Probably,” Nico muttered, burrowing closer. “Still true.”

Her chest tightened all over again, but this time she didn’t fight it. She just let him stay. Let herself stay, too.

And somewhere between the steady rise and fall of his chest and the lazy circles her fingers kept drawing in his hair, she drifted again.